


And Then the Bastard Came Back

by AmputeeTrainee



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Alucard's a creepy asshole, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmputeeTrainee/pseuds/AmputeeTrainee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly reimagined ending of Hellsing--Integra is not happy about waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then the Bastard Came Back

Through blond eyelashes, Integra could see the darkness moving. In liquid coils, shadows budded from the bedroom wall and sprouted across the surface thick as ivy. Eyesight not as it used to be, the dim, meandering lines wavered against the wallpaper like a mirage.

She blinked firmly and willed the sight away. For 30 years, the darkness had played tricks on her, especially when sleep was slow to come. The gathering shadows were wishful thinking, nothing more. Just false glimpses of a pet she sometimes missed though rarely admitted feeling the absence of.

Yet, when her eye cracked open again, the dark spot remained. Her breath hitched once–-this was _real_. Suddenly, the blackness peeled off the wall in dripping tendrils and oozed into a puddle on the floorboards. Spreading like dark fingers, the collection of shadows slunk toward the center of the room. Breathing slow and measured, Integra didn’t move.

The darkness slipped under the legs of the bed-–hiding like the boogeyman, how predictable. She fought the smile that threatened to curve her lips. The corner of her mouth twitched once. He had done this all her young life, but she wasn’t a child anymore and hadn’t been for some time. This game of predator and prey had long since completed its purpose: one must always be prepared.

Hands tucked beneath her pillow, Integra let her eye close again. Uncountable seconds passed, but she didn’t stir from her guise of sleep. Body lax, she waited. Her grip on the hidden, sleep-warm colt .95 tightened only when the sheets rustled.

The fabric billowed. Cold air brushed her legs as the darkness eased under the covers. Gooseflesh pimpled tan skin, but she didn’t dare shiver. Coils of shadow hiss across the sheets as they serpentined around her form, close but never touching. The bed groaned as the gelatinase mess collected beside her. The darkness took shape, and the pull of the sheets mapped the outline of a tall body. 

The figure drew a breath, no doubt taking in her scent. The soft, human sound caused such a sudden swell of anger to flood through her, Integra almost broke her act at the boldness. After 30 years, he decided to materialize in bed directly beside her. What an awful hello; more respect than this was due, no matter how long the absence.

When the weight beside her shifted, she didn’t move a muscle. When tendrils of unseen hair brushed against her cheek, she remained serene. But as cold, dead breath ghosted across her neck, Integra’s remaining eye snapped open with fury.

Leaning low and predatory over her, the No-Life King looked as he had all those years ago-–Alucard, that timeless bastard. Immediately, she brandished her weapon and shoved the gun barrel beneath his chin. He paused, fanged mouth open wide and hungry as red eyes stared down. The safety clicked off and a low, rich laugh left him.

“You’ll ruin your sheets,” he noted.

This was true, the blessed silver bullet would cause damage; his blood and brain matter would leave stains. But that wasn’t the point.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’d be the cause,” she clipped, pressing the gun harder with a glare.

Another laugh escaped him, making his Adam’s apple bob and lips curl lecherously.

“Ah, I missed you too, Countess.”

“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped.

He straightened out beside her to lay like a man rather than a looming monster.

“I’ve been doing what you ordered, Master. I have returned to you.”

In the darkness, sharp teeth glinted. She frowned.

“It took you too long,” she criticized.

“I had to keep killing all the lives inside of me-–all three million, four hundred and twenty-four thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven. I killed them _all_ , expect _one_. Now, I am everywhere and nowhere,” he explained cryptically.

His existence had always been an enigma, but now it was wrapped in a paradox too. Still, the answer wasn’t sufficient, it didn’t snuff the lingering anger. She glared back as the burning, red gaze settled on her face.

“But not soon enough. You’re _too_ late. I’m an old woman now,” she said, unable to hide the bitterness.

“That doesn’t bother me…” he assured as clammy fingers curled a lock of iron hair behind her ear.

She snorted dismissively and shook her head, but wasn’t quite able to fight a wayward smile. Unwilling to lower the gun, Integra raised her other hand to thin lips and bit down on the pad of her thumb until she tasted copper. His nostrils flared as he suddenly inhaled. It had been 30 long years, he must be starving.

“This is for finally coming home, Count,” Integra greeted at last and traced her thumb along his cold lower lip.The red of her blood colored the pale skin like rouge. Smile widening at the gesture, he leaned closer. Mouth opening, his pointed tongue darted out to lick his lips clean. When the slick muscle flicked her skin, Integra removed her hand with a grimace. His red eyes smoldered from beneath coils of inky hair as rows of monstrous teeth gleamed back pleasantly. Her lips pursed.

“And this is for taking so damn long,” she snipped and pulled the trigger. The gun went off. The headboard splintered. His body jerked once, head rupturing into a sticky fountain of ooze. A cold mist sprayed her face. Downy feathers floated through the air like snow. It didn’t take long for gurgles to turn into laughter again. She watched as shadows and blood knit together, wildly morphing into the shape of a head. Before his features reformed, Integra pressed her forehead to his hard, blood-soaked chest and added tightly, “I don’t forgive you.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you would, Master,” he answered simply.

The hint of humor in his voice made her consider pulling the trigger again-–the _bastard_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I guess Alucard’s creepier, Integra’s angrier and the ending is sappier?This drabble came outta nowhere, like always. I know this fic infers that they’ve had intimate relations, but I don’t actually think they would– ~~all bow to ice queen Integra, the boss bitch **.**~~


End file.
